


Bloody Sunday

by Quasi_a_la_Modo



Series: Acerbic Accosting [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Bending Definitions, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Unrequited Love, hanahaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 02:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15160907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quasi_a_la_Modo/pseuds/Quasi_a_la_Modo
Summary: Obito is dead, and Tobi lives. But try as he might, he cannot quell the garden springing from Obito's still beating heart.Hanahaki-au





	Bloody Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Right back at you.

“He’s replaced you, Uchiha.” 

Tobi shakes his head and wheezes as quietly as he can. The voices echo in his head over and over again; the visions he’s seen through that blasted eye are enough to drive him mad. He coughs again, harder, and several peach blossoms flutter into his lap. How fitting.

He reaches into his throat and pulls out a long branch of white willows (sadness) intertwined with yellow Hyacinth (jealousy), and a single crimson rose (love and mourning).

Obito was dead. Obito had died in that cave, had died under that boulder— where his love for the wolf should have died as well. He digs another petal from his teeth; he can feel the stems caress the hole in his chest, his empty eye socket pulsing with his aching heartbeat.  
Obito was dead. And Tobi was born. Through the tempering of Madara’s forge, his flesh had been made whole, but his insides still bloomed. 

Everyday, the weight in his chest would hold him against the floor, the stems and thorns forcing their way through his throat to mock his longing; their twisted branches weaving through his flesh, integrating themselves in his bones.  
Everyday, he wakes to a rose, its thorns wreaking havoc within his already raw throat. He claws it out, gnashing it apart with his teeth and swallowing it— a vain attempt to swallow his own heart.  
Everyday, he could feel the daisy chains (hope) try to stitch his heart together..

Obito was dead. But Tobi still weeps for his kindred-spirit.

He tears them out, feels the flesh and bone tear along with the greenery. It’s the only way to match the pain in his soul. He wishes he could remove them all, but there’s always one left. He always leaves one to sprout again.

Tobi watches through Kakashi’s eye as the little pink one struggles to her feet. He catches her sideways glances; he can see the blood drip from the corner of her mouth. She is weak, and she knows it. She sees his Kakashi stare at her, adjudicating her every movement, pointing out her weakness.

He can feel a honey carnation (disdain) pushing its way through his bowels, threatening to burst through his chest, his body desecrated and decomposing within a forest of his own flesh.

“Pathetic,” he hisses at himself.

But he can feel the foliage within his chest constrict around his lungs, fresh vines tying around his lips, strangling him and halting his voice. Another coughing fit, and 3 more petals float through the air.  
He catches them delicately between his fingertips. The deep red rose petals match the blood spackled against their faces, and he scatters them in the breeze, their soft shapes dancing in the wind and the sun gleaming off the crimson dew, before turning back to his home. 

 

Madara would be wondering where he is. 

Madara would be upset he hadn’t burned this forest to the ground.

Madara knew.


End file.
